


Surrender

by CelticKnot



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 04:52:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13474083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticKnot/pseuds/CelticKnot
Summary: "Surrender" just wasn't in her vocabulary, it never had been.





	1. Part I—Demons

Amaryllis Shepard barely paused as she stumbled past the aquarium, keying the feeder controls more by force of habit than conscious choice. She hastily stripped off her armor, letting pieces of purple and black ceramic, metal, and carbon fiber litter the floor. She would pick them up after she had a chance to take a shower and wash off the physical and mental grime of this last trip to Omega.

But as the last bit of gear thudded dully on the carpet, leaving her clad only in her dark undersuit, a bone-deep weariness seized her limbs. Suddenly, the bathroom was much too far away. Shepard collapsed onto her bed with a groan and sat with her face in her hands, unable to stop shaking.

She had faced death before. Hell, she had _died_ before. But she had not gone quietly into the night. She had fought and kicked and clawed and screamed defiantly for every last moment, refusing to give up hope. It was who she was. _Surrender_ just wasn’t in her vocabulary, it never had been.

Until Morinth.

It had been easy to feign interest in the beginning. Shepard had always been a decent actress—command required it in certain situations. She had to project confidence and competence in front of her crew at all times, regardless of how uncertain or afraid she felt, or risk undermining her own authority. It was a skill she had honed and developed for years until it became second nature, and with Samara’s guidance, it had translated well to this mission. Morinth had been utterly convinced, herself seduced by Shepard’s carefully calculated persona.

But alone in Morinth’s apartment, Shepard’s control of the situation had deteriorated at a terrifying rate. The Ardat-Yakshi had been almost supernaturally compelling, and Shepard had found herself agreeing with her every word before her rational mind could catch up to what she was saying. So enthralled had she been, she had almost forgotten the mission. Finally, Morinth’s eyes had gone black as she turned the full power of the asari mind upon her, and Shepard had lost herself in their depths. She had been fully prepared to _surrender_ to Morinth’s every desire, even as she knew it meant her own death. She had _wanted_ it. And that left her feeling violated in ways she couldn’t describe.

A knock sounded at her door, and it slid open before she could answer and send the visitor away. She shot to her feet, cursing herself for forgetting to lock it behind her—and her tension was only compounded when she saw who was there.

“Please forgive the intrusion, _siha,_ but I had to see you.” Thane’s voice was strained, clipped, his movements uncharacteristically abrupt as he crossed the room and pulled her into his arms.

Shepard stiffened in his embrace, her head swimming with conflicting emotions. At any other time, she would have welcomed this. Their relationship had been blossoming slowly but steadily; neither of them had yet called it love, but it was becoming harder and harder to deny. The extent of their physical contact up this point had been just holding hands, and though she was determined to let him set the pace, Shepard had of late found herself wanting more. But right now, still reeling from her encounter on Omega, she didn’t want to be touched, not by anyone. Not even him. Her stomach turned at the contact, words failed her, and she couldn’t breathe.

Thane seemed to sense her discomfort and released her, but the wounded expression that flitted briefly across his face made her feel even worse. “I’m sorry,” she croaked miserably as she sat back down. “It’s not you. I just… can’t… right now.”

Thane settled beside her, folding his hands tightly in his lap, probably hoping she wouldn’t notice their trembling. “What… did she do to you, _siha?”_ he asked, his crushed-velvet voice laced with barely concealed horror. She had never seen him so rattled.

“Nothing, Thane,” she said dismissively. “I’m fine.”

He stared back at her, his eyes huge and dark and seeing right through her, so like and yet unlike Morinth’s in their magnetic intensity. “Clearly, you are not.” He reached out to take her hands, a habit, then caught himself when she twitched away. “Will you not place your trust in me, as I have placed mine in you?”

 _You manipulative bastard,_ Shepard thought, without really meaning it. She shook her head. “There’s nothing to tell,” she insisted, even as a part of her whispered the temptation to fall back into his arms and confess to him exactly how Morinth had broken her. But that small voice was drowned out by the part that screamed to be left alone. “She didn’t hurt me. Samara was right there—she never had the chance.”

“Samara.” Thane’s voice was cold, his eyes narrowed. “The Justicar who would use an innocent person as _bait_ for an Ardat-Yakshi.”

The bitterness of his tone surprised her, cutting through her self-pitying haze, and she studied him curiously. His normally unflappable composure was hanging by a bare thread, strained to the breaking point. There was tension in his posture, anger in the set of his jaw, and genuine fear in his eyes. It was difficult to look at, knowing as she did that she—or, more specifically, his caring for her—was the cause of it. “Says the _assassin_ who would use orphan children to spy for him,” Shepard snarled, perhaps more harshly than she’d intended. “You _hypocrite_.” That, she meant.

Sort of. It wasn’t fair, and she knew it. But then, neither was his attitude toward Samara. Shepard had volunteered to help her, had helped plan the operation, had agreed to it freely. There really had been no other way to take Morinth down, no other way to ensure Samara’s complete commitment to this most critical of missions. Surely he knew that. And of course the danger had been very real and very great—when wasn’t it?

And yet this time had been different. Shepard’s usual _modus operandi_ —take a fire team, shoot your way in, secure the objective, shoot your way out—would have proven disastrous. Instead, she had gone alone and unarmed to face an opponent who had powers she could never hope to match, and had deliberately placed herself under her sway. She had had to rely utterly upon Samara for her rescue, to trust the Justicar literally with her life. And Thane, who had accompanied her on nearly every mission since joining the crew at Ilium, had been forced to wait helplessly on the sidelines.

Nevertheless, her words had their intended effect of causing the fear and anger to fade from his face—but that expression was replaced by one altogether more difficult to name and heartbreaking to see. He bowed his head, as if ashamed. “You must forgive me, _siha,”_ he rasped. “The last time I was not present to protect someone I… someone I loved…” He raised his eyes back to hers, something in them pleading for her understanding.

The breath left her in a rush, her head spinning dizzily with a dozen different simultaneous reactions. _Protect?_ Yeah, right. She was _Commander fucking Shepard,_ she didn’t need anyone to _protect_ her. _(“I don’t need your help—I want it,” he’d said)_ Did she? Wait. He was talking about Irikah, his late wife, murdered while he was away from home. Right. Of course. He wouldn’t want to see that happen again to someone he—

Her racing thoughts stuttered to a halt.

_Someone he loved._

Oh.

There it was, finally. The timing could not possibly have been worse, but there it was. The words hung in the air between them, breathless and shimmering, demanding a response with an insistence Thane was far too considerate to have consciously intended. In fact, they seemed to have torn themselves from him almost against his will. Forcing him to surrender to the truth he might otherwise have denied.

And forcing her into a conversation she just wasn’t prepared to have. Not now. Not with the humiliation and terror of Morinth’s manipulations still fresh in her mind, not with the scars of that ordeal still bleeding. No, she needed time to recover, to pull herself together, before she could begin to address… this.

She couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. One more instant and she would drown in those soulful dark eyes, would cry or scream or lash out—she wasn’t sure which. Instead, she stood and crossed the room to the aquarium, bracing one hand on the tank and leaning her forehead against the cool glass, squeezing her eyes shut as a long, shuddering sigh escaped her.

Free of his gaze, she could begin to clear her mind and gather her thoughts. Her breathing slowly evened out as she struggled to think rationally. But a red-hot fury churned in her stomach and spread through her veins, and her hand curled into a fist to beat softly on the glass, once, twice. How could he be so selfish? To throw this at her, now…

 _You_ did _just insist you were okay. You’d be just as mad if he didn’t believe you._

_He doesn’t. He doesn’t believe me, and he said it anyway._

_He’s trying to help you._

_Well, he’s failing. Miserably._

_But he’s trying. You’re the one being selfish! Clearly he’s in pain, too—but he’s still trying._

Shepard turned around and slid to the floor with a sound that was half a laugh, half a sob. Arguing with herself—she really was losing it, wasn’t she?

Thane shifted uneasily. _“Siha.”_ His voice was very soft, very resigned, and very, very controlled. It was only because Shepard knew him so well that she could hear the utter desolation in it, too. “If I have said something to offend you, or if I have… misunderstood your intentions… I am sorry.”

“No!” Anger and frustration propelled her back to her feet, and she gritted her teeth. He had it all wrong! “Damn it, Thane! You didn’t… I… it’s not like that!” She raked her hands through her hair as she slumped back against the fish tank. Suddenly drained and numb, her voice quaked with unshed tears, coming out in little more than a whisper. “I just… I need… Can we talk about this later?” she begged, her eyes fixed on the floor. “Please?”

He let out a sigh that shivered with so much relief it was almost a moan. “Of course.”

Shepard suddenly found she could breathe again, too.

Bowing his head, Thane closed his eyes briefly, then stood to leave. As he passed her, he paused. “You made a promise to me, not long ago,” he said. “You said you would be here for me, whatever I needed.”

She snapped her head up to stare at him in shock and indignation. Of all the inappropriate—

But there was not a trace of accusation in his expression, and he held up a hand to silence her. “Know this: the same offer stands for you.” He gave a slight bow. “Good night, _siha._ When you are ready, I will be waiting.”

As he turned away, Shepard’s hand shot out as if of its own accord, seizing his. He turned back around to stare at her in surprise. A small smile tugged at his lips, and when she said nothing, he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. Then he released her and was gone.

Too exhausted to move, Shepard leaned the back of her head against the tank and closed her eyes. The comforting silence of solitude gave her the space to confront the residual terror of Morinth’s assault on her mind, her soul, her very being, that still roiled and flashed within her. And so Amaryllis Shepard surrendered to the storm, and wept until the tears ran dry.


	2. Part I—Angels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is Part I again, this time from Thane’s POV. I felt it was important to get his thoughts on this scene before continuing.

The elevator on the _Normandy_ was always slow. It had become something of a running joke among the crew, especially those who had served on the ill-fated _SR-1_. But today, the ride from the crew deck to the Loft seemed utterly interminable. Thane paced restlessly back and forth as it crept upward, his heart racing, a sick feeling churning in the pit of his stomach.

It had been all he could do to remain silent as Samara and Shepard had worked out their plan to get to Morinth. True, there had been no other viable option, no other way to bring down the rogue Ardat-Yakshi once and for all. But the thought of Shepard in the murderess’s lair, unarmed, alone… it had been almost more than he could bear. _Please,_ he had begged of Arashu, _keep her safe. I cannot lose her, too._

And it seemed the Goddess had heard him: Shepard had returned from the encounter alive.

Ah, but the wait had been harrowing. Though Thane had heard of Ardat-Yakshi long before meeting Samara, he had assumed the tales to be exaggerated, the creatures themselves half a legend. Then the Justicar’s pursuit had brought the _Normandy_ to Omega.

 _Aria T’Loak’s eyes flash. Her body tenses, and her arrogant, cavalier persona cracks a little—the pirate queen of Omega is frightened. “Nothing leaves a body quite so…_ empty… _as an Ardat-Yakshi does.”_

That comment, which he had thought little of at the time, had haunted him later as he waited for EDI to alert him of Shepard’s safe return. His imagination had conjured up images of eyeless sockets, shriveled skin, a black cavernous mouth fixed open in a silent scream. Of once-silken hair now brittle and breaking, of the dried-out husk of a woman practically weightless in his arms. The horrific specters had forced themselves into his consciousness until they felt as vivid and real as memory, and had left him shuddering, distracted and wondering if he was finally going mad. Thane was not a man given to flights of fancy; his imagination simply did not normally run away with him like that. But with nothing to do but wait, try to meditate and suppress the memories that threatened to bubble to the surface,

_(blood splattered on the walls, the floor)_

_(her broken body flung twisted in a heap like a discarded doll)_

his anxious mind had found another outlet for his fears. Now, at least, he could consign those fears firmly to the oblivion of unfoundedness.

At long last, the elevator slid to a halt. Thane was somewhat surprised to find Shepard’s door unlocked—and just like that, the memories he’d spent the last hours pushing aside came screaming back.

 _I skid to a halt just outside our home, my heart slamming against my ribs. The door stands wide open. Irikah never_ _leaves the door open, even when she’s home. Especially when she’s home._

_The house is dark, too, and the reek of blood hangs heavily in the air. I draw my pistol and edge slowly inside, icy dread gnawing in my gut. It takes all the discipline I can muster to keep my breathing controlled and my steps silent. I want to shout their names, to dash from room to room until I find them, but if there are intruders here, I’ll only get myself killed._

_I end that sentence right there as firmly as I can._

_The silence is oppressive, though, and soon I can stand it no longer. “Irikah?” I call out, but my voice emerges a barely audible croak. I clear my throat and try again. “Irikah! Kolyat!” Desperation reverberates in the shadows. Terror echoes from the walls._

_There, a sound. Cautious footfalls approaching from behind. I whirl around to face the source of the noise, pistol leveled in one hand, biotics charged in the other, ready for a fight. If this is the fatherless thug who invaded my home and attacked my family, I swear to Kalahira he will not live to see the dawn._

_But the figure that emerges from the dimness is small and trembling, flinching away from my gun with a cry. I drop my weapon, and Kolyat flings himself into my arms, sobbing. He seems unhurt, but to my horror, I realize he is covered in blood. “I can’t wake Mama up,” he chokes out. He hasn’t called her “Mama” in years._

_My blood runs cold. “Where is she?” I whisper._

_Wordlessly, Kolyat points toward the kitchen._

_I pry him off me as gently as I can. “Stay here, Kolyat,” I command, though I don’t know what’s left to protect him from._

_I round the corner into the kitchen and turn on the light, revealing a scene that, in my darkest nightmares, I haven’t even allowed myself to fear._

_There’s blood splattered on the walls, the floor. So much blood—I squeeze my eyes shut; I can’t look, but I must. Gritting my teeth, I_ force _myself to look. To see Irikah, my wife, my angel, my_ siha, _her broken body flung twisted in a heap like a discarded doll. Her sunset-colored eyes at once empty and accusing. I fall to my knees and—_

Thane forcibly dragged himself out of the memory, bracing one hand on the wall to remain upright as he caught his breath. Old wounds, never truly healed, torn open afresh—whether by the memories themselves or the events that triggered them, he couldn’t be sure. All he knew for certain was that the one person who could soothe his troubled soul was on the other side of that door.

He knocked politely, then keyed the controls without waiting for a response. He felt jittery, anxious, disconnected, and that brought out an impulsiveness in him he’d thought long dead.

And there she was, alive and unharmed, and so achingly beautiful Thane wondered for a moment if he was dreaming. “Please forgive the intrusion, _siha,”_ he managed through his daze, “but I had to see you.” A few long strides brought him across the room, and he pulled her into his arms, if only to reassure himself that she was real. Really here. Really safe. Oh, he had wanted to do this for so long—

But something was wrong, very wrong. Shepard had tensed the moment he’d touched her, and though she didn’t push him away, it was clear the contact was unwelcome. Thane let her go and took a half step back, studying her with wide eyes. Was she wounded, after all? Or had he made a grave error?

Shepard collapsed onto the end of her bed. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was thin and brittle. “It’s not you. I just… can’t… right now.”

Wounded, then, not in body but in spirit. She had not escaped Morinth unscathed, after all. Thane sat beside her, careful to keep a little distance between them if that was what she wanted, as the fear he’d only moments ago dismissed came roaring back. “What… did she do to you, _siha?”_ he demanded, as gently as he could.

Shepard’s answer came a little too quickly. “Nothing, Thane. I’m fine.”

“Clearly, you are not,” he replied, and it was only when Shepard jerked her hands back that he realized he’d reached out for them in the now-unconscious gesture of comfort they’d so often shared. It surprised him how much that small rejection hurt: almost as much as her refusal to open up to him here, even after he’d shared the darkest chapter of his life with her. He appealed to that intimacy now. “Will you not place your trust in me,” he pleaded, “as I have placed mine in you?”

“There’s nothing to tell!” Shepard insisted, shaking her head and staring down at her knees. “She didn’t hurt me. Samara was right there—she never had the chance.”

Thane gritted his teeth so he wouldn’t sneer at the name. He hadn’t gotten to know the ancient asari very well yet, and he very much wanted to sympathize with her. If it were he, charged with hunting down and killing Kolyat… well. He didn’t know how one earned such an assignment, nor did he particularly care to find out. It was unimaginably cruel, but her methods were equally so, and he felt nothing but bitterness and anger toward her. Her Code had replaced her conscience. “Samara. The Justicar who would use an innocent person as _bait_ for an Ardat-Yakshi,” he bit out. He failed to see the justice in that.

Shepard’s head snapped up and she stared at him for a silent moment, deep brown eyes glassy with unshed tears. Her expression was inscrutable. “Says the _assassin_ who would use orphan children to spy for him,” she snarled suddenly. “You _hypocrite_.”

Her words cut deep. Thane wanted to argue, to insist that the _drala’fa_ who’d traded secrets for trinkets had never been in the kind of danger Shepard had faced today—not because of him, anyway. He could never have forgiven himself if a child had been hurt or killed getting him intel. And he suspected that, had Shepard fallen victim to Morinth’s murderous desires, Samara would have harbored little such guilt.

Maybe he was wrong. He hoped he was.

But he didn’t want to fight with her. They were both bruised and battered enough already. Besides, if he were truly honest with himself, he knew this had little to do with Samara, anyway. He’d come up here so full of selfish need, only to find her in just as vulnerable a state. He belatedly realized that if she’d wanted to see him, she would have come down to Life Support herself. Instead, he’d invaded her space at a time when she probably just wanted to be alone. “You must forgive me, _siha,”_ he said hoarsely, bowing his head. “The last time I was not present to protect someone I… someone I loved…” He raised his eyes back to hers, unable to finish. But she knew how that story ended. His words were an offering, a promise and a plea. His heart in her hands.

Shepard looked stricken.

Thane could only watch helplessly as a dozen different emotions flickered across her face, finally settling on something akin to horror. She gaped at him for a long moment, then, abruptly and without a word, stood and stumbled over to the aquarium, staring into the tank as she gathered her thoughts.

What those thoughts might be, Thane could only guess. She seemed to relax at first, but then her fingers curled into her palm and she struck the glass in a gesture of frustration and anger. Finally, she turned around and slid to the floor with a strangled sound that stilled the breath in his throat.

It seemed he had misread the situation, badly. Thane had never been particularly adept at reading human emotions, and though he had learned much since joining the crew of the _Normandy,_ it was clear he still had a long way to go. Perhaps Shepard had always intended the flirtations they’d shared to be nothing more than that. Perhaps, though it tore him apart to think so, he had mistaken her kindness and generosity for a love she didn’t intend—the kind of love he ultimately didn’t deserve, anyway. And now, by doing so, he had only compounded her distress. He had to school his voice carefully to hide his own. _“Siha,”_ he ventured, barely above a whisper, “if I have said something to offend you, or if I have… misunderstood your intentions… I am sorry.” The words tasted like ashes and fell dead at his feel, crushing what remained of his soul into dust and leaving him empty. Hollow.

But Shepard seemed shocked, and lurched back to her feet with a cry. “No! Damn it, Thane! You didn’t… I… it’s not like that!” Her fingers tangled in her hair, her breathing ragged as she stared at the floor, unable to meet his eyes. “I just… I need… Can we talk about this later? Please?”

Thane released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his lungs protesting painfully even as relief crashed over him in a wave that left him reeling and dizzy. Never had he been happier to be wrong. She wasn’t pushing him away entirely, as he’d feared—she just needed time. And though he had little remaining, he would gladly give her all of it. “Of course,” he breathed. With a silent prayer of thanks to Arashu, he rose and started for the door, but stopped as he passed where Shepard stood slumped against the aquarium. His hands itched to take hold of hers, but he willed them to be still. “You made a promise to me, not long ago,” he said to her. “You said you would be here for me, whatever I needed. Know this,” he continued quickly, his heart breaking a little at the anger that flashed in her eyes, “the same offer stands for you.”

The anger faded from her face, leaving her eyes wide and full of tears.

Thane gave a small bow. “Good night, _siha._ When you are ready, I will be waiting.”

But as he forced himself to walk away, he was stopped in his tracks when she seized his hand, apparently as much to her surprise as his. When he turned back to face her, though, she said nothing, only staring at him as if begging him to see the storm churning behind her eyes, and to understand.

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, and left.

He would give her whatever time she needed. Until then, he would survive on the tiny spark of hope, however faint, that she had kindled.


End file.
